Coffee and Command
by moiraphoenix
Summary: A second year Cadet meets Admiral Janeway and finds a mentor. I do not own these characters, I have merely borrowed them. All comments are welcome. Please review. Thanks!
1. Chapter 1

It had been years since Voyager's homecoming, but I clearly remember the announcements and the celebrations. Every monitor had lit up in our house with their sudden appearance. At first the alarm had sounded that an unidentified space craft had appeared. Were we under attack? The initial announcements told us to prepare for evacuation, but within minutes the news spread that the space craft was actually the U.S.S. Voyager – the missing Intrepid class ship lost 7 years earlier. I was so young when they vanished that I don't remember it happening but my parents, who had helped develop some part of the warp core design for the ship, were very invested in its disappearance. When Voyager suddenly reappeared in the Alpha Quadrant everyone was overjoyed. Voyager Day became a national holiday; we didn't have to go to school which for a 14 year old was a much bigger deal than the fact that a ship that had been lost for seven years had finally come home.

Four years later, I thought I wanted to be a pilot, but that wasn't practical enough for my parents. "You could be responsible for getting your ship lost somewhere." "You might die a fiery burning death!" "You've never shown an aptitude for piloting, why would you want to make that your career?" Never having been given the opportunity to try to fly anything, not even a real hovercraft, how could they know I had no aptitude for flight? Regardless, that career choice was discarded so quickly that it became obvious that I too would become yet another engineer in the Davis family. I also added health sciences to my list of options – maybe I could do something different than my parents, not that they thought much of that idea either.

By the time I started my second term, I was still undecided about my career path. When selecting my courses for the term, I noticed that Admiral Janeway would be teaching one of the final required courses I needed to take. I jumped at the opportunity, having heard about Voyager for so many years, as did many other cadets. Janeway had been an advisor for a few years, mainly working with upper-level students and new ensigns. I had seen her around campus often flanked by wide eyed, overachieving, lost looking young ensigns or in the company of other Admirals. She never seemed approachable especially when in the company of the latter.

Admiral Kathryn Janeway demanded respect. No one really knew what happened on Voyager during its seven year journey but there were rumors. Most people said Janeway was a good leader, tough but kind and highly revered among her crew, yet no one really knew how she became so well admired. Some people claimed she had strict punishments for anyone who dared to step out of line, while others claimed she'd had intense romances with crew members and passing aliens. Regardless, upon her homecoming she became an Admiral and if you learned anything from growing up a Starfleet brat, even with engineer parents, it was that you better respect an Admiral if it's the last thing you do.

This was the first class she would teach for Starfleet Academy cadets. She said nothing, walking confidently into class that first day, mug of coffee in hand, but everyone sat up a little straighter. The room was silent. Admiral Janeway took roll. She called my name but I found that I couldn't speak – hearing my name on her lips was like hearing it for the first time. She called my name a second time and I responded "Present, Ma'am." She looked at me, trying to discern why it had taken two recitations for me to respond– I knew she would watch me more closely now and kicked myself for my lack of etiquette. I vowed to make a better impression next time I spoke up in class.

I looked forward to her class each week, always coming to class prepared. It turned out I was interested in the subject material as well as the presenter. I developed a bit of an obsession with the Admiral, more of a teacher's crush to quote those middle school tormentors, but I didn't care. I researched her Starfleet career, studied some of the scholarly papers she'd written based on astral phenomena found in the Delta Quadrant. Part of me kept thinking that she had to be at least twenty five years my senior, at least if not more, but I didn't care. I wanted to impress her.

Today, I had prepared a presentation with a group of peers to present during class. When I say I prepared it, that wasn't stretching the truth as I had researched, written and compiled the whole thing. My teammates were jerks. They hadn't bothered to help at all, but they expected it to be done, by me. I couldn't let the Admiral down so I did the work. I sent the team the presentation last night and told them they were presenting it. I'd done my job, and it was up to them to present it. They agreed and I tried not to think about how much I wanted this presentation to go well so that the Admiral would notice me and hopefully amend any preconceived notions of my academic habits.

Opening the presentation, I remembered that I had put my name last on the list of student contributors. I really wanted to blend into the background so no one would notice that I didn't speak. I also knew that by putting your name first in the list of the five of us, I'd get a lot of flak from the jerks. As usual I was the group nerd and no one was going to let me forget that. The presentation went off without a hitch. As I clicked through the slides each of the jerks took their turns speaking and I watched the audience – I watched the Admiral. She was lounging in the chair next to my seat in the hall. I could be sitting _next_ to her right now! She looked interested but not particularly engaged. She understood the material clearly and seemed to be enjoying the presentation – at least that's what I hoped I was reading from her relaxed posture and the slight tug of a grin as she listened.

When the presentation was over I asked if there were any questions. No one raised their hands nor looked remotely interested in asking questions. Had the presentation been over their heads? Did they not like the presenters? Did they not like me? I stood at the presenters podium ramrod straight, an open and hopefully pleasant expression on my face. I tried not to look at the Admiral, but of course I did. As my gaze swept the uninterested and blank-faced audience my eyes locked with hers. I thought I might faint. Her stare was so intense and clear that I felt as if she were looking into my soul and reading all my secrets there.

"Thank you, Ms. Davis. That was a good presentation. If there are no further questions you are all dismissed." She said it was good! Relieved I gathered my things and walked quickly back to my seat. I didn't look at the jerks as I walked past them. On my way up the auditorium steps I moved through the crowd going the opposite way. I bumped into someone as I was trying to get to my row and muttered "sorry" bending to pick up the papers I had dropped, before I noticed their command red shoulders. I looked up into those crystal clear eyes,

"I-I-I- I'm so s-sorry Admiral!" I stuttered. She stood tall as if she hadn't noticed that I'd bumped into her. Her face broke into a smile.

"It's okay Davis. Here," she bent to help me pick up a few pages from the presentation that I'd dropped. She glanced at them before handing them back to me and then took a second look. They were my notes for presentation, and the rest of my research. "Is this yours? I mean, did you do this?" She asked sounding disbelieving. She continued to look at the pages, deciphering the scribbles and cramped margin notes around the presentation slides.

"Yes," I finally managed to get out. She scrutinized the back of the next page.

"This is really good Cadet!" I stared. What was good? My notes? My research? My work? I decided not to say anything and hoped it didn't make me look stuck up or like an idiot. The room had cleared out and the last of the class was closing the door behind him. It was just the two of us in the room, alone. I could swear she could hear me breathing. "Why didn't you present this?"

"I did."

"No," she said, quickly giving me an exasperated look over the top of the page, "this." She pointed to something on the page. "And this, and well all of it. Why didn't you put this in the presentation?" Why didn't _you_ put this in _your_ presentation? Did she know? Could she tell that I'd written the whole thing?

"I- I did; it was in the presentation, I think."

"Not these details, these questions. This was certainly not what your group presented Davis." My group? Was it mine because I'd done all the work or because I had run the presentation or was it just a thing to say? I was so confused and that stare was making it harder and harder to concentrate on what she was saying. I was lost in those clear blue eyes staring at me so intently.

"Cadet that was not the sort of presentation that I would expect from those guys."

"No?" I managed to choke out.

"No, that presentation showed that someone had put a lot of thought into what to present and not cloud it with details that would confuse the audience and detract from your purpose. I meant what I said, it was a good presentation, but it could have been better." My face fell and I looked at the ground. I'd let her down, hell, I'd let myself down.

"Why don't we grab some coffee? I'd enjoy hearing more of your thoughts and maybe try to answer some of these questions."

I looked up at her. Had she said what I thought she said? Was she inviting me to get coffee? To sit and have a drink with _The Admiral Kathryn Janeway?_ "Um, o-ok," I said, trying not to sound too eager.

"1500 hours? At the café down the street?"

"Sure!" She smiled. The Admiral smiled warmly – at me. I felt warmth spreading where shame from her earlier comment once was.

I ran, okay, walked as fast as I could, back to the dorms. I made incredible time – the walk usually took me about 15 minutes and I got there in half that. I don't think I'd stopped grinning since I walked out of the lecture hall! _I was to have coffee with the Admiral!_ It was 1400 now, so I had an hour to kill, and I decided that I would try to look presentable for this _date_ well not like date-date, but meeting. We were going off campus so I immediately got out of my uniform, the itchy thing falling to the floor where I quickly picked it up and hung it on the back of my desk chair. For Starfleet Academy the dorms were pretty plain - regular wooden-composite furniture and basic computer terminals, nothing fancy, which seemed so out of place and down to earth considering we were studying space travel.

It wasn't often that I got to wear anything not Starfleet issued (pajamas, workout gear and casual sweatpants and shirts were all from the campus store). Presumably you could wear your own clothing but as I didn't have much in that way I chose to wear what was readily available here. Besides, I felt like I fit in better with the other cadets if we had to all wear the same crappy clothing day in and day out. However for this particular outing I chose a lovely flowered dress and sandals as it was still summer weather. I took my hair out of its crisp bun and let it hang around my shoulders. This was the least comfortable part of my outfit but I decided that coffee with the Admiral off campus was worth a little discomfort. I sat at my desk for a few minutes with my hair around my shoulders. It continued to agitate me so I decided to put it back up, braiding it. That was better.

I put my research papers, a book for class and a Pad inside my bag and headed out. It was 14:40. I figured I'd get there early and get some homework done. As I walked to the café I thought about what I was doing. I tried to put it out of my head that this was a date. It wasn't, really, it was two colleagues meeting to discuss research. Did I really just compare myself as a colleague to the Admiral? Well ok, maybe not colleagues but peers? A mentor and student? Maybe this wasn't a good idea.

I first noticed her when I turned the corner. She was also early, seated at a table outside, and was reading a Pad of her own. Her brow was slightly furrowed in thought or confusion. I unconsciously slowed my pace, watching her. I almost hadn't recognized her out of uniform. She wore a white blouse and grey slacks. She sat straight in her chair despite the casual environment, but her hair was pulled back behind her ears – something I'd never seen in class. It made her look younger somehow. As I reached the chair opposite her she looked up. "Admiral?" Her eyes took me in for a moment before she broke into a smile. It was almost as if she hadn't recognized me either.

"Ah Cadet, do sit down." She gestured to the chair opposite. I sat down as she put the Pad on the table. "Did you want something to eat or drink? I can put it on my tab – they know me pretty well here." And just as she said it a young woman came out to refill the Admiral's mug.

"More coffee, ma'am?" she asked smiling, filling the Admiral's empty mug even before she said, "Yes, thank you Aria."

Aria and the Admiral looked at me expectantly. "May I have a coffee?" I asked sounding sheepish. Aria nodded leaving us for a moment.

"Good choice," the Admiral said.

"I only hope it's-"

"Better than what they serve on campus?" the Admiral finished for me. I nodded. "See for yourself," she said as Aria came back with a second steaming mug and a small container of cream. I poured a small amount of cream into the mug and stirred. The Admiral watched me, her face devoid of emotion though I could almost feel her anticipation. I took a sip and my face broke into a smile. Not only was this so much better than the coffee on campus but it may have been the best cup of coffee I'd ever had. I hadn't realized that my eyes had closed as I savored the flavor until they snapped open when the Admiral spoke. I missed what she said.

"I'm sorry, what did you say Admiral?" I felt like an idiot.

"I was saying that assuming from your moment of bliss there that your coffee is in fact better than what you get on campus?"

"Mmm yeah," I said, taking another sip and forgetting who I was speaking to for a moment. "I mean yes ma'am. This is really good coffee," immediately snapping out of my blissful moment and back into proper cadet posture. The Admiral laughed to herself, taking a sip of her own coffee.

"Relax, Cadet, we're not at the Academy." She leaned back in her chair, enjoying her coffee. Relax? How was I supposed to relax? I was having coffee with Admiral Janeway! I took another sip not knowing what else to do. The Admiral lounged in her chair enjoying what was at least her second mug of coffee. She seemed lost in thought and I did my best not to disturb her.

"So, Rebecca Davis, we came here to talk about your research." I jumped at the use of my full name. I must have looked startled or confused because the Admiral asked, "Rebecca?"

"Please, Admiral, if you don't mind, would you call me Becca? I'm only called Rebecca for formal occasions or when I'm in trouble. Usually when I'm in trouble," I added softly.

"Becca it is," she nodded, smiling. My name sounded foreign on her lips but I liked the way it sounded. We talked for a few hours about my research and she answered the many questions that I had. We continued talking about the class she was teaching and how I felt it was going. We talked about my group and when she asked me how I felt our presentation went I was confused.

"I thought it went well," I said. "Me too," was her response, so why was she asking me? I wasn't the course instructor. I must have looked confused because she added, "I value student feedback on projects and presentations. I thought yours was good, but I want to hear more about your process and distribution of work." Did she want me to completely spell it out that I'd done all the research, put the project together and assigned who was saying what? I thought she told me earlier that she didn't think that the quality of the presentation was up to the goons I was assigned to work with, and I was pretty sure she had implied that she knew that I did all the research after looking at my notes. I took a moment to gather my thoughts, unconsciously staring into my now empty coffee mug. "I'm not sure what you want me to say," I finally concluded quietly. That felt like such a cop-out but I really didn't know what she wanted to hear!

"Rebecca," great now I'm in trouble, I thought. "I didn't ask you because I think I already know the answer, I want to know what went on in your group because I suspect it happened to other groups, and, if that's the case, that's not how I want these projects prepared in the future. I wanted you all to collaborate and work together to create this presentation for the class, and for me." She paused, and in that short expanse of time I felt like I had really let her down.

"I'm sorry Admiral," I said still staring into the depths of my still empty mug.

"What?" she asked me. I looked up to find her looking at me with a puzzled expression.

I looked into her eyes for a moment before looking down again. She didn't say anything so I felt obligated to repeat my apology.

"I said I'm sorry." There I'd said it. I had unknowingly let her down and now I had apologized for it.

"Cadet why do you think I assigned this project?"

"To see how well we can collaborate and work together as a group?" I ventured. Isn't that what she'd said a minute before?

"Yes and no. Becca," she sighed, "you have to understand I'm not a teacher by nature. I run my classes like I ran my ship. Maybe I should have started with that." I looked up. I wasn't sure where she was going with this so I continued to listen. It wasn't often that the Admiral spoke of her time on Voyager, never one to brag or live in the past, and I felt like I was suddenly privy to a more private side of the Admiral. I continued to sit back in my chair, careful not to break her concentration or startle her. "You are all cadets, we were all cadets once, and that means that eventually you will be a part of a crew somewhere. A crew is not a group of people all doing their own jobs – they have to work together to serve one purpose: to run the ship or keep it running as the case may be." She put her mug down on the table, folding her hands in her lap. She looked at me, not saying anything for a moment, looking almost lost in thought. I stayed silent, wanting to hear more. No one really knew what happened on Voyager other than what was in the reports. She took a deep breath, steepling her fingers, tapping the tips together while she thought. She folded her hands, placing her elbows on the table and leaning forward. I still sat back in my chair feeling small. "While you are assigned to different specialties at the Academy, not everyone will come away from here with the same experiences or even truly the same knowledge. That diversity of knowledge and experiences working together are what make up a great crew.

I put you in your teams to see how the roles would shake out. What I want to know is how did you get stuck doing all the work, all the research and presentation creation? Or did you choose to do so? If it was by choice, why would you try to do that yourself and if you got stuck with it, what can we do to not let that happen in the future?"

She said "we." Was the Admiral looking out for my future? Was she willing to be an advisor? Am I getting too far ahead of myself? Answer her Becca you dummy…

"I guess it happened both out of necessity and ultimately I got stuck with it. No one wanted to lead the group so I stepped up and somehow I ended up doing the whole thing. Actually, I think I wanted to do the work because I wanted the presentation to be good, and I wanted to make sure it was good." I paused not knowing if I should continue. She was looking at me intently, like she knew what I was about to say. "I wanted the research and the presentation to be solid – informative but not too boring or difficult to understand – and I guess I didn't trust those guys, I mean the rest of the group to do a decent job. I, well, I guess I wanted to impress you too, Admiral." There I'd said it.

She didn't say anything, and I went back to staring into my mug. I felt so small and self-conscious all of a sudden. What had I just done? She asked about the project and how the group worked together not how badly you wanted an A or about your secret life as a suck-up who would do anything for Admiral Janeway.

"Rebecca," she started and I looked up to see her looking at me, "I mean Becca – sorry that will take a few days." She smiled. "I appreciate your honesty. Frankly I chose the groups to see who would rise to the occasion. Like I said, I'm not a trained teacher, I'm a scientist. These projects were sort of an experiment. I wanted to see how the groups worked out, who would end up leading, and who would do the scut-work. Right now you're all fairly early on at the beginnings of your Starfleet careers and you probably don't really know where you'll end up. The administration has been reminding faculty to try to help cadets determine their career path so I guess this was a somewhat failed attempt to do that. The leaders will always rise to the challenge, those who have gotten by in the past by other abilities or by using other people will either fail out or step up, and everyone else will end up where they need to be. After your presentation and seeing your research notes, I thought you may be thinking about a command path, but upon reviewing your file," she picked up her Pad and read, "it says you're thinking about either health science or engineering?" I shrugged. Is that what she had been reading on her Pad when I walked up? My file?

"I'm still not sure where I fit in here," I said, finally admitting the truth to someone.

"Well, I really think you should think about a future in command."


	2. Admiral Janeway's Perspective

It is very different, commanding a classroom versus commanding a starship. A Starfleet officer _demands_ respect. Academy professors, while they are Starfleet officers and thus demand the same respect, are often seen as 'just a professor' to most cadets because they're not commanding or working on a starship. Command is earned and not freely given to teachers and professors. It ought to be, but after all they're just kids. I can command a starship in my sleep, but standing in front of a lecture hall filled with kids who aren't even sure if they want to be Starfleet officers is certainly not second nature for me. Today's cadets are tough to impress. Most professors have notable resumes, but actually teaching is an entirely different beast. I am a scientist, not a teacher, I often found myself thinking after a particularly rough day in class. I have had to experiment to see what works.

The final group of speakers would present today. I walked into the hall and up into the lecture hall seating as I had done for the past few classes. I hoped by sitting here to take in these student led lectures from the student perspective. I had heard rumors whispered in the halls about how much of a hardass I am as a professor, but then again my mentor had been Admiral Owen Paris – the original tough professor – though he'd often been nice to me. I smiled, thinking about this as I sat down; I didn't only want to be known for being a hardass. I hoped to inspire greatness in my students, but I also hoped I was more approachable than Admiral Paris had been for my class.

This final group consisted of a girl and five guys. While we were only halfway through the term, I felt quite sure that some of the boys would not pass my class. They weren't stupid, but they lacked the work ethic that I required of passing students. The girl, Cadet Rebecca Davis, who I knew was the daughter two of the original engineers during Voyager's construction, began the presentation tapping her PADD with tentative yet determined strokes. I had no preconceived notions about Davis other than she was a good student – she handed her work in on time and it was always thoroughly completed – but I didn't know much else about her. She came to class prepared and that was all I asked.

Davis looked tense, standing stiffly behind the podium. Her eyes darted to her teammates standing around dumbly, no I shouldn't say that – they're my students - they stood by silently watching her, with almost judging stares. As she began the presentation, the boys perked up and lined up to speak. It was as if seeing their names on the screen brought them out of their daze. I noticed Davis had listed her name last which struck me as odd seeing as she was controlling the presentation. The boys took turns reading each slide, never adding more than what was on the screen. I was beginning to get bored and found my attention turned to their group leader. Davis clicked through the slides with furtive glances to the audience. She didn't speak at all until the end of the presentation. I sat back, realizing I happened to choose the chair next to hers. As I looked at her desk I wondered why she hadn't spoken during the presentation. She had left her desk very neatly, no notes or anything out for the presentation. She was so focused on what the boys were saying, timing each slide change to their words, that she hadn't noticed me watching her.

I sat back further in my chair, looking like most of my students. They were bored too. This presentation was so bland. I realized sitting here listening to this kid drone on – was that Jackson or Johnson? – that the class was completely tuned out. Not good. The information was all there, but the presentation itself was very dull. It wasn't an easy topic to present and I applauded Davis for attempting to cover such a complex idea for a presentation early on in the term. The information was all there and there wasn't a great way to present the topic that wasn't dull, but that's just it she'd lost the class during the presentation. At least that was my assumption – that Davis had done the research and put together the presentation. The young men she was working with were clearly not engaged in the material and frankly I couldn't figure out why they registered for this course. Smiling to myself I remembered how Admiral Paris had once reveled in telling me about how satisfying it was to weed out students who didn't belong leaving only the best and the brightest and those who were ripe to become competent and successful Starfleet officers. I never understood what he meant, being far more concerned with whether or not I was meant to be weeded out before my career began.

Smiling at this thought, I continued to listen to the final presenter. As he finished reading the slide, Davis stepped back up to the podium. She stood tall, like she was trying to be professional, but trying a bit too hard after that presentation. I had to hand it to her the material was good; it was the delivery was crap. It had been way over the heads of her peers. Her eyes swept the room as she asked the class if there were any questions. There were not. I could see a few emotions play over her face – fear of failure, irritation at her peers for their lack of understanding and probably at her group members for their lack of caring or charisma with the project, but ultimately there was a gleam of defiance in her eyes as if daring anyone to tell her that she didn't belong here. Her eyes widened as they found mine. I held her gaze, watching the defiance turn to nervousness momentarily before she looked away.

"Thank you, Ms. Davis," I said. "That was a good presentation. If there are no further questions you are all dismissed."

I watched her quickly nod her head and gather the PADD and the notes she had brought down to the front with her. She didn't look at her team once, who stood motionless before realizing they'd been dismissed and lumbered back to their seats to retrieve their belongings. As soon as I had dismissed the class the rest of the students immediately grabbed their things and headed for the door. I paused to let most of them get down the stairs of the lecture hall ahead of me. As I walked down the stairs a figure quickly brushed past me, knocking into my shoulder sending papers flying. I paused looking down at the student now crouched down to pick up the papers – Davis. As if in slow motion she froze, looking at my boots and slowly up to meet my eyes. Her eyes widened in fear realized it was me she'd bumped into. I almost laughed.

"I-I- I'm so s-sorry Admiral!" she stuttered.

"It's okay, Davis," I said smiling. "Let me help you with those."

Bending, I grabbed the last two pieces of fallen papers. I looked at the papers before handing them back to her. Few students still printed out notes for their presentations – most students used PADDs, but as I looked at the pages I understood why she would want to hand write her notes. Cramped writing filled all the space absent of text on the page. I started reading some of the notes, having to squint at the tiny scribbles. I turned the page over in disbelief and saw that the notes continued to fill most of the other page as well. I couldn't believe what I saw – this student had not only thoroughly researched the presentation topic but she had ideas that would baffle more senior students. There was a list of questions that seemed unanswered on the back of the page.

"Is this yours? I mean, did you do this?" I asked her in disbelief. Surely some upperclassman must have helped her with her research.

"Yes," she said quietly after a short pause

"This is really good Cadet!" I said. She was staring at me with a look of incredulity on her face. "Why didn't you present this?" I asked her.

"I did." 

"No, this," I pointed to her questions and hypotheses laid out on the back of the page, "and this, and well all of it. Did someone help you with your research? It's ok if they did –"

"No!" she cut me off boldly. "Admiral," she added after a quick pause.

"Then why wasn't this part of your presentation?"

"I, I did; it was in the presentation, I think."

"Not these details, these questions. This was certainly not what your group presented Davis." How could she not know what I was talking about? Did she dumb down the presentation for the class? For the jocks she worked with? I realized Davis was looking at me in surprise and confusion. Was it because I had called it her group? It was her certainly her presentation anyway.

"I know you did all the work Cadet. That was not the sort of presentation that I'd expect from those guys." 

"No?" she choked out.

"No, seeing these notes now I know there was more to that presentation that what you presented. If you did all this research and have these questions," I point to the back of the page I'm holding, "then clearly your presentation shows that someone put a lot of thought into what to present. I meant what I said, it was a good presentation, but it could have been a lot better."

Her face fell and she looked at the ground. I felt bad and I wanted to reach out and console her. No, you're her professor! I chastised myself, but I didn't want to break the poor kid, "Including these details may have engaged your audience more or you may have lost them even more completely. Why don't we grab some coffee? I'd enjoy hearing more of your thoughts and maybe try to answer some of these questions," I suggested, hoping to boost her spirits a bit. What else was going on in this cadet's brain?

She looked up at me. "Um, o-ok," she said, trying to keep the beginnings of a smile off her face. Maybe she did want to talk to me. I smiled.

"1500 hours at the café down the street?" It was nearby and they knew me pretty well there. Too well if I was honest.

"Sure!" She smiled. I nodded, handing Davis her papers back.

I walked down the stairs, listening to her quickly grab her class materials and pack up. As I finished turning off the projecting screens in the room I caught Davis dashing down the stairs, clearly in a hurry to leave.

"Don't be late Cadet," I said in a sarcastically stern tone, eyebrow raised. She stopped, her eyes widening in fear as she looked at me quickly. "Kidding," I smiled, trying to appease her. "See you soon." She visibly relaxed a little as I chuckled to myself.

I chuckled to myself. Cadets are so easy to mess with. Looking at the time I had an hour to spare before we met.


End file.
